Once A Thief
by MuddyWolf
Summary: Thief!Zenigata. Set before the series. This is my first Lupin fanfic, so please criticize all you want.


Legal Stuff: Lupin the 3rd and all of the characters in it belong to Monkey Punch. Ganimard belongs to Maurice LeBlanc. Inspector Ganimard isn't in this, but his name is. The title is from Les Misérables.

Rant: I was horrified that there was only ONE Thief!Zenigata fics. Yes, I know it's not canon.Nothing of what I write is. XD As I recall, there's about two Zenigata in jail fics, one of which is the same one that's the Zenigata in jail fic. Funny enough, Zenigata in jail is actually canon, for anyone who remembers the six or so times he's put in jail in the 2nd seriesand the specials: Crisis in Tokyo, Episode 0, Missed By A Dollar) and counting the almost (police van) in Pursuit of Harimao's Treasure that makes 7. And they were about to arrest him in Dead or Alive. And though it's due to mistaken identity, or littering, drunkenness, or reckless driving/running down roller coaster tracks, it's surprisingly frequent. Only when Lupin's jacket is red, though.Though half the time he hasn't done anything, it's hard to miss it when he steals a bicycle (unless that's his bicycle?), a taxi, and several other cars--as I recall there's only onetime in the whole series that Zenigata shows his badge before commandeering a car. The rest of the time he just takes it. Is that even legal? From Crisis in Tokyo and that one episode, we know that he knows how to use a lockpick--and seems to enjoy it, and another one where he interferes with Lupin's arrest. Then in Voyage to Danger, when Lupin tells him he'd make a good thief, Zenigata thanks him. In pink jacket, when he's disguised as that convict, he pulls off a really impressive escape.And finally, the disguises--Lupin seemed to designate the use of disguises as a thief's exclusive right, and as I recall, Zenigata disguises at least 8 times counting red and pink jacket. And if you bring a cactus with you (pink jacket), you'd have to be at least a little bit of an underdog!If you ask me, Zenigata's very thief-like (with the exception of green jacket). Whew, that was amouthful.

A/N: Timeline: when Lupin was partners with the guy who shot him in Island of Assassins.

12/17/07

Once A Thief

by Blue9Tiger

The ordered parade of celestial bodies processed in measured time across the universe. The rogue of them, likewise condemned to march by the inflexible designs of creation, shone approvingly on the mischief about to be perpetrated in full view of scores of cameramen and armies of white-and-yellow squad cars. The crowds, held at bay by mobs of burly officers and a double cordon, wondered with embarassing indiscretion where the thief was in the mansion. The ambitious threw down bets. Inspector Hanshichi of Interpol bit his lip in a controlled fury. Since when did crime become a circus attraction?Behind him, the din of the games raged.

"I'll lay down 10000 he's already blown the joint!"

"No way, man, the fuzz's gonna nail 'im for sure.

20000 if I'm wrong!"

"I'd stake my glass eye on it!"

"Come on man, lay some more sake on me!"

Everyone was either on edge or on booze, and everyone wanted something for their patient huddling in biting, wet 18 degree weather. The cops wanted a man, maybe twenty. No one knew how many accomplices the perpetrator had, and with the job that he'd boasted in a letter he'd pull, there was no wayhe was alone. As for the media, they wanted a man, a clean getaway, a dead body--whatever sold. And whatever the end to this proposed heist, it would sell.

"Inspector---Inspector Hansichi!"A sharp-eyed loner broke away from the zombie mass of reporters and clawed his way through the sweating, reeking bodies. He shoved his red Channel 7 microphone in an age-weathered, tired but dog-stubborn face. He didn't look at the scavenger, but kept his eyes fixed on the only possible exit. Any minute, there'd be a red-jacketed punk with his pockets stuffed with the ambassador'sstolen cash, and then...

"Inspector, what can you tell us about the perpetrator?"

The old man kept his eyes dead straight ahead, both to keep a hawk's eye on the thief and because he didn't like the press, and grumbled in a smoke-racked voice,

"Name's Lupin III---nothing but a punk kid--petty thief from France--they're all dishonest over there in Europe. " A fake laugh from the reporter, which grated on his nerves even more. He glared at the camera, as if he knew that his prey was somehow watching. "So this is your first big mark. Planning to start a career in Japan, huh?..! Not on my watch, Lupin---this will be your first and last heist in the Empire."

"Heehheehheeh!"

A chimp-like snicker bouncd off the walls of the otherwise silent security room. The would-be master thief leaned casually back in the chair in front of the cameras, linking his round fingers behind his sideburned head, grinning snidely at the withered old cop staring unblinking into the camera.

"Oh I don't know, old man, I liked Mt. Fuji so much I think I'm gonna stay here awhile!"

He had the most singular appearance. An oval, egg-shaped head with sideburns and a slightly aquiline nose sat on a thin neck which melded into a surprisingly muscular build but just deceptively scrawny enough to fool both cops and other crooks alike that he didn't have any fight in him. His hands were round and strangely furry, and he was so bow-legged that Quasimodo would believe he could stand erect. While on that subject, his eyes were afire with devilish lasciviousness--Who'd think, that in such round, monkeyish eyes, there'd be such lust? Lust for life, lust for money, and above all depending on what kind of mood he was in, lust for women. Clothes were optional of course. As for this man's clothes, it was something out of ahorror flick for fashion police. A red jacket over a sometimes dark blue, sometimes black shirt, on which was clipped a gaudy yellow tie. Black or light gray slacks officially blinded you,and just to piss you off, he wore his pants short so his white socks showed. Add a widow's peak and you had one-part devil, one part circus clown.

Behind him in the doorway, away from the electric glow of the security camera screens so he was in shadow, growled an impatient, business-like voice that had no time whatsoever for the theatrics that his partner seemed to love so much---theatrics being defined as anything not immediately related to the heist.

"Lupin, what the hell are you doing? Did you forget that we have a job to do?"

Lupin bounced lightly up from the swiveling seat and avoided stepping on the unconscious guard and his newly-acquired goose egg.

"Of course not! I was just scoping out the security outside."

"And?"

The monkey laughed through his teeth and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Nothing to it! And now this sleepy town is going to see--" He flashed a cocky smirk and cracked his knuckles. "--just how good I am."

His partner answered with a disinterested "Hmph" and both exited the security station. The lanky simian outlaw crawled noiselessly through the vent past the armed guards standing stolidly in the black hallway, alert to the mice scurrying behind the walls but completely oblivious to the rats in the air duct. On they slipped through the fatal crack in security, squeezing through the cramped space, quite aware that any false move and they'd be done. They rigorously supressed any unnecessary vibration...an intake of air, the scrape of their belt buckles against the vent floor, a sniff. They couldn't afford any mistakes. But the need for silence hardly merited the same reservation in glee, and Lupin's white face stretched into a wide grin that almost reached his ears. Just a few inches more and they'd be a million richer..

When the alarm went off.

A shrill bell rattled angrily throughout the entire compound. The statuesque guards came alive and took off down the hall. Yelling below, gruff, grave sharp voices from gruff and grave men. Someone barked a command. Needless to say, the mute game was up.

"Damnit, Lupin, who could've--?"

The other's high-pitched, snarky voice bounced off the walls and grew farther dimmer as he raced on elbows and knees for the grate.

"Don't know, but you can bet they're amateurs!"

He deftly removed the grate and threw it down where it landed with a clatter and hopped down. Sure enough, the competition had his hairy paws wrapped around a fat stack of bills big enough to sleep on.

"Lookin' for this?"

The other safecracker stood there cockily, an impetuous grin stamped on his face. He looked more or less like Lupin--the hint of wrinkles in his brow signalled he was older--maybe not as pasty, but from his tri-colored ensemble having just as disastrous a fashion sense. In his black eyes he wore the same gleeful contempt for authority that drove Lupin to plunder.

But who cares? That little punk was going down!!

Lupin's partner, not as inclined to talk, immediately drew his gun and aimed. The bow-legged man held out his left arm in front of his partner and the other man resentfully lowered his gun. Lupin sauntered towards the rival, applauding him with a lopsided smirk.

"Congratulations on getting here before we did." He slipped out a handheld camera from some magic recess in his jacket. "Now smile for the camera..."

Lupin slipped on a pair of goggles and squeezed the button and a blinding light engulfed the narrow room, leaving the upstart writhing on the floor with his knees tucked his chin, his hands clamped over his eyes, screaming in agony.

"My eyes--God, it burns!!!"

Lupin's partner ditched his goggles and dove for the stack of crisp bills that the other guy had dropped, only to recoil with a sudden sharp pain. A drop of blood trickled from the wound.

"Rgghh...bastard.."

The devious thief had grabbed a fistful of coins from his jacket pocket and had flung them at the badly-dressed joker. "Hey look, money.." The glitter of gold enraptured him long enough to put the metal chunks dangerously close to his head. "Eegh..Incoming!" Lupin abruptly made himself shorter, narrowly dodging a flurry of whirling pieces of metal just in time to see the other thief stuff what was supposed to be _their _cash into the sack. Evidently unharmed by the flash, the would-be amateur flicked an index finger at his victims and warned,

"Don't mess with Eugène Ganimard!"

The damn alarm rang unceasingly as Lupin picked himself up and glared out the window, a little embarassed and really steamed. He punched his knuckles into his palm a couple of times. It didn't get their money back but it sure felt therapeutic. Already the gears in his brain started to churn..how were they going to get it back?

"Ganimard, huh?" He stared out the window to the accompaniment of the irritating music of the alarm bell. "Who does that punk think he is-?! I swear I'm gonna..."

"Lupin III! I have you surrounded."

The toothy chimpish snarl changed to one of nervous surprise, then twisted into a genial grin.

"Congratulations, Inspector, you're just in time to see the fireworks---they're nicest on a full moon like this..don't you think so?"

"Fireworks? What are you talking.."

Without warning there was a spark, a whistle, and just outside a firecracker exploded in a torrent of light and fire. The police shielded their eyes as the thing blew up, and by the time everything returned to a semblance of normalcy Lupin and his partner were gone.

---

"Okay, if that guy wants to steal our take, well..."

He laughed, filling the dingy apartment with a sound that registered as only nominally human.

"We'll just have to take it back!"

Lupin's partner sat wide-legged on the rotting purple couch. A cheap ceiling fan blew all 10 bucks worth of air. Outside, the glass was ice-frosted, but the damn landlady had this place hotter than hell, and his ever-reliable associate got it in his head to buy that piece of crap to make existence in their current hideout bearable.

He dabbed his cut gingerly, a wound worse to his pride than his skin. But he was a rather vain man, anyway.

"And then kll him."

Lupin's impossibly wide grin flopped ungraciously into a scowl.

"Yeah, yeah, great idea!" he yelled. "And get the cops even more on our asses than they already are? We'll just teach him a really expensive lesson."

His partner nodded coolly. He just didn't get this guy. Damn idealist.They were always the last to make a profit and the first to get a bullet in the head. Banking on the slim hope that the monkey man meant a lesson in blood, he muttered,

"A bullet in his skull."

"You have zero imagination!!" Lupin leaned on his scrawny legs and snickered, the protruding vein bulging in his head and the rising irritation in his voice increasingly evident.

"There's no fun in swiping cash from a dead body! And even if it was fun, I don't feel like bagging the maggots in addition to the dough, you get my drift?"

He swaggered apishly through the door. The man left on the couch pursed his thin lips. Once he got like that, there was no convincing him to do otherwise. But hold on a second. He couldn't give a rat's ass about Lupin's misguided morals. Fine, let him get screwed over.

But think about it. That was his money at stake. For each of the on-par thieves operating in that area diminished profits. Simple solution: kill the competition.

That moronic imbecile. It's so easy...

The door swung open impatiently.

"Hey, you comin' or not?"

---

A yellow songbird warbled on the sill. Whether if it was to welcome a new day or complain about life, performed its euphonous daybreak aria, pecked at the sill a few times, and flew away in a fat cloud of feathers. Inside, Ganimard yawned, stretched, and with lidded eyes leered at his ill-gotten stash in the nondescript safe in the wall. He jumped out of bed, shoved the shelf aside, and turned the lock with dexterous, nimble hands.

36---12----96---10---

The heavy door yielded at the magic numbers and he swung it open...only to find a letter and what looked like a monkey head giving a raspberry at the nonplussed/furious reader.

"What the---Don't tell me---!!" He lapsed into incoherent grumbles as he scanned the surprisingly loopy, elegant handwriting---written in French, but up-down, as if to honor or ridicule his host country. "What a smartass! 'To congratulations on---'" He sputtered and started over. "'To Eugène Ganimard. Congratulations on amost getting away with the million. However, you knew it was mine to begin with so you had to know I'd get it back, right? I got to say, you're not bad!

For an amateur?! Looking forward to--' rghhh-- 'humiliating you again, Lupin the 3rd----'

Oh, yeah?!" He crumpled up the paper and flung it in the basket. He was wide and it bounced off the lid. Grumbling, he snatched the mangled letter up and then caught sight of some ink on the back. He stretched it out as best as he could and read on. "'P.S.: Nice porn collection by the way. I like your style." He shredded the letter into bits and tossed the remains a second time. He roughly wrenched his clothes from the foot of his bed.

"So that's how he wants to play it, eh?"

---

Inspector Hansichi, looking increasingly lean, paced in front of the police station. Lupin had not yet announced his heist, but he had a gut feeling. The little ape never rested, and neither did he.

"You've gotta be friggin' kidding me!!!"

Sure enough, there he was. He heard him before he saw him, and instinctively pulled out his trusty rope. He trudged swiftly in the direction of his quarry, but then upon seeing him at the street corner, stopped short. He had no evidence that Lupin had stolen anything---the most he could get him on was trespassing. And now it didn't seem he'd be able to nab him for robbery either, as he had hoped. Lupin looked angry, was pouting, a little red in the face and had punted a crumpled beer can across the street. His partner easily walked over it. Why did the idiot have to draw so much attention to himself? And--oh, shit, there was that pig again with the giant nose.

Hansichi sighed. There was no way he could arrest him yet, and he squeezed his rope convulsively. For now, all he could do was overhear the snatches of conversation interspersed with the occasional frustrated scream. "Man, I don't believe it! He beat us to it!"

At that potentially incriminating declaration his ears perked up ad he raised his rope again, his own outdated but reliable shield for justice. Hansichi approached them, his gruff voice taking on an insinuating tone.

"Beat you to what, huh? Come on, I know you were planning a heist!"

Lupin shrugged in defeat and answered,

"Honest, Inspector, I wish I could say we were guilty, but Ganimard swiped the whole damn Gold Building-all five friggin' floors of it!"

"But you admit to going to the Gold Building to steal it..?" Hansichi persisted, a gleam in his old eye.

But his not-so-captive audience had vanished.

---

Lupin struck a match and took a long, calming drag.

"I gotta admit, the guy's no amateur."

"Like I said, I can ice him. It'll be the end of our financial woes."

Lupin shook his oval head. The end of his Gitane glowed orange and crumbled. One of his eyebrows was cocked, and the other slanted downwards. Another sure sign that he wasn't going to change his mind. For looking like a monkey he was as stubborn as a mule.

"That's the way I roll, pal." The perfume of the slender Gitane danced about his lips.

"If he doesn't try to kill me, I won't kill him. Thieves' honor." He let out another simian laugh, stripped of the usual malice. His partner rolled his eyes at the back of Lupin's red jacket and asked iin a tone which only thinly veiled a growing hate.

"So what do you propose we do?"

---

Hansichi rubbed his sore temples. He wasn't exactly sure why his head pounded--maybe it was because he had gotten hammered last night on that European beer---More likely it was the string of robberies as long as his nose, that piled up only in the last three months. And there was no need to say what had happened to his until-then stellar reputation.

The old inspector found himself on the hot end of the chief's gaze. An uncomfortable silence broken only by the rustling of papers on the polished desk.

"Did you see this, Hansichi? This is an absolute mess. What do you plan to do about this? This department has become a laughing stock--do not forget we have a reputation to keep up."

Hansichi bowed deferentially and saluted.

"I promise you, Chief, Sir, that I'll have Lupin III behind bars."

"Inspector, this misreant you've been chasing, for what---"

"Three months," the older cop interjected matter-of-factly.

"Three months, Inspector. And in that time, what have you arrested him for? For all of..."

His gaze darkened into a glower. "Ten minutes?"

"Two counts of disorderly conduct, one count of reckless driving, and--one count of theft," he answered neutrally. The chief answered his stoicism with sarcastic sweetness.

"And what was this charge for?"

"Stealing a bicycle."

And then the chief exploded.

"A bicycle, Inspector! That's not worth even two weeks in the lockup!"

"With all due respect, sir." Hansichi pulled out a file out of his trenchcoat and lay it on the table. His only defense against the chief's wrath. "I have solid proof that Lupin III is responsible for 50 of the 90 heists perpetrated this week. All of them grand larcceny. Over a hundred million yen in stolen property. It'd be enough to put him away for life."

The chief thumbed with new curiosity through the evidence and stroked his broad chin.

"So I see..." Slightly disconcerted, he shoved the evidence aside: the inspector had proof, but that was only an embarassing reminder as to how many times this supposedly petty thief had broken the law--on his watch--on a mind-bogglingly gargantuan scale. Naturally, better it be his subordinate's mess. "But how do you plan to catch him, hm? No one knows his whereabouts: he has hideouts all over the world, and we have no efficient means of tracking him."

Hansichi nodded, his eyes brimming with hapless but unflappable determination.

"I'll just have to wear him down until he gives him up."

"With your age, Inspector, you'll give up first. And then what?"

Before the old man could protest, the commissioner beat him to it.

"I order you to apprehend Eugène Ganimard. Those 40 other thefts that weren't Lupin? He's responsible for them.""

"Ganimard? He's serving life on Execution Island--"

The chief sat on his opportunity and leaned his ponderous mass forward over the desk.

"He escaped en route. Now it's far easier to catch a fugitive, you know that. He can't get far, can't trust anyone. We know all of his hideouts.--and even if that only reduces this embarassing larceny spree by one or two, so much the better. Do you hear me? Hansichi? Arrest Ganimard. That's an order."

---

Lupin flung his latest haul into his vault, where it landed with a frustrated click of coins weighing much less than they should. He wiped his white brow with the back of his hand and sunk into the overstuffed couch that reeked slightly of cheese. The apartment they were in was different from the one they were in a week before, as much as to stay ahead of the cops as to sate his ever-rising ambitions.

"I think we've got to step it up to maximize our profits. So..." he turned around, his mouth full of a cigarette. "How about you and I go treasure hunting?"

Lupin, normally with an eye to his back, didn't find anything odd about his partner's lack of protest.

The sluggish haze rolling over the water did not prevent things from going at a disturbingly rapid pace. Lupin jumped into the into the pasenger seat of the stolen helicopter. His partner had never complained less: he had followed his every lead.

And out of the blue the backstabber sprayed him with a violet powder. Potent stuff that Lupin had used himself-- no way to resist, you were paralyzed instantly. That didn't numb the burn of the bullet from his own Walther that ripped through his innards, or lessen the impact of the realization that he was plummeting to his death, and his formerly loyal partner indifferent to his demise steered the chopper into the mist that steadily blurred into a black cloud.

---

In front of him glittered a hazy blinding bright green.

_What a color scheme for Hell...yeeghh_.

Lupin's stiff eyelids slowly split open to the sight of the mirror image of himself, that had become since familiar. The other waved with the kind of stupid grin from someone who wasn't going to kill you...maybe someone you could even trust.

Maybe.

Lupin was about to fire off some inflammatory challenge to the older man, but the other thief broke in first.

"Looks like the doctor got the bullet outta ya just in time."

"Ganimard..heeh..so you dragged my sorry ass out of the water."

Lupin rolled his eyes up and to the side in a rare bit of embarassment.

Then he made an odd face, twisted his mouth, and gave him a "Hey, how about that" look.

"Want a light?"

"Yeah."

Lupin sat up stiffly, cringing, and groped around on the table with the arm on the side of his body that didn't feel like it was on fire. He snatched the Gitane box and slid out a cigarette and the other man lit the match he had on him while the doctor glared at them unsmilingly. Lupin waved grinningly back at the ill-tempered doctor, and took a drag in his direction just to spite him. "So old timer--"

Ganimard growled and balled his hand into a fist as he protested,

"Heyheyheyhey---I'm not even 30!"

Lupin's whole face turned into teeth.

"Come on, you look old enough to be my Pop!"

"Hmph, I've come to call a truce with you, but---"

"But if you're gonna be like that, you can forget it, right?" Lupin smirked, his spherical eyes bright. "I was gonna say the same thing, but why stop there? Why don't we team up?" he proposed. "I just---uh---dissolved a partnership." He winked and winced at the same time. So much for being like James Bond.

"Why the hell not?" the other lustily agreed, just as the flashing blue and white of the squad car lights blinked threateningly behind his head.

Hansichi forced the lock and, backed by a sizeable force of uniformed officers, burst into the doorway, looking happy for the first time in his life. Not only had he fulfilled his immediate order, but he had caught the thief that had been sullying Interpol's good reputation for months now. A quick glance at the bed told him that his quarry was momentarily incapacitated, and his other man had pulled a gun---typical act of desperation for a fugitive.

The inspector didn't flinch, because he was the dogged type, but not brash. He knew how to handle the perpetrators who were knee-deep in crime but still had something to lose. "No need for that, Ganimard. You can't make a stand here. That's your only weapon and it only has eight rounds. As for your throwing yen, you just spent them on flowers for your lady friend back in Tokyo. You surrender now and we'll guarantee that the baby is cared for."

The fugitive swallowed, heaved a sigh, dropped his gun and raised his hands. Lupin saw there was no point breaking eggs over this, and with a feigned look of dejection, gave himself up.

---

Ganimard sat pensive on the thing that passed as a bed in his cell, in the degrading striped uniform and prison slippers. Took an extra long time searching every inch of him too---sick bastards. Guards for the most part were human, they had their own problems, own reservations, maybe some guilt--either way, they felt, and he sure as hell wouldn't kill any of them, but the ones on Execution Island were sadists. Not even a month and he was already nursing a black eye and bruised jaw---he thought that if anyone, the other inmates'd be the ones roughing him up, but on the Island all the crooks were united in some unspoken contract--if they were going to survive the soulless automatons called the Execution Island guards. The older thief was no stranger to holding cells, but this hole was pure shit and it didn't thrill him one bit.that they hadn't cleaned the damn cell since the last occupant croaked in and of course he had to end up where the cells were frigging 300 years old. Good luck finding a toilet and you could forget the shower. Didn't let him shave either, the bastards. He hated beards.

As for Lupin, he hadn't seen him since they were moved from the holding cell. But before the cops hauled off the younger thief for transport, Lupin saidsomething out of the side of his mouth and out of the blue:

"Sorry to break up the partnership before it really got going, but no sweat! We'll see each other real soon."

"Are you crazy, Lupin?! I'm serving life on Execution Island, and you've got life in the highest security prison in Japan! Face it, we're done--"

"Hey, keep it down, Pops! I don't mean to brag, but I'm never held againt my will."

Lupin's optimistic reassurance, too cocky even for him, haunted the rapidly-despairing criminal.

"So if you can get out any time ya want, why didn't you? Why the hell would---"

A raucous howling and laughing from the old geezer in the cell across him, his head long gone from the years wasted in the hole. Someone growled, pounded on the slime-coated wall of his cell, others planned out their escape in whispers. Blinded with delirium. Ganimard fingered the ghost of his lockpick that the guards had confiscated from him during the search. If he had it...well, he would've showed himself the way out day one.

The rusty metal door grated against the decrepit but enduring walls, and the voices of the felons, a hellish chorus ended by the divine spear of angels, died down. With any other guard you can be a wise ass and escape relatively whole, but not with these guys. Insulting them was like a jailbreak, and they didn't hesistate to shoot any convict with that kind of impudence. A racking cough from one of the other inmates bounced jaggedly off the wall. A rat squeezed into a crack in the floor, that bubbled with some unknown liquid. The human machines headed robotically into the corridor and shoved the creaking key into the lock.

---

The guard shoved the handcuffed prisoner into the chair sitting in front of the warden's desk. Without turning around, the guard rigidly took his place just in front of the door, his rifle at the ready. The message was quite explicit.

"They just keep getting younger," observed the warden. "Just a month ago, a convict escaped from the most secure facility in this country--some 20 year old punk, his first felony of ovver 90 counts of grand larceny, petty theft, armed robbery. He was taken under heavy guard. Chained hand and foot." The raised, anxious note in his voice betrayed his incomprehension of the whole thing. "Within 24 hours, he broke out."

Ganimard didn't realize that he was grinning until the warden questioned sternly,

"That amusing to you, you piece of shit?"

The felon's swollen eye gleamed through puffy lids. Since the guard had escorted him his cheek was fat and bleeding and his arm had been twisted and there was an ache running all up and down his back. He managed an asymetrical smile and answered semi-incoherently through his swollen cheek, feigning the sort of respect that the subjugated mimic in order to fool their conquerors into thinking they're beat,

"That's Lupin, sir. He told me he's never held against his will! Guess you just can't keep the guy locked up."

The warden's anger dissipated and he became suddenly civil.

"Go on, what else do you know about this Lupin?"

"Nothin' else, sir."

"Naturally." The warden folded his carefully-maintained hands and pushed a bulky file in front of him, official and no-nonsense. "You see this?" The prisoner nodded and acknowledged with a grunt.

"That is your record. Of the 250-odd felonies you've been convicted of, 235 of them resulted in the bankruptcy of corporations that were later found corrupt, and the bust of drug rings, money laundering operations---Now, if I ask you if that was your goal, of course you'd say it was to save your filthy lying ass. So I won't." He lit a cigar and with contempt blew the rich smoke into the convict's dirt-caked, scraped-up face. "Now--I'll tell you, this isn't done, and if you ask me, it's a mockery of the justice system, but the commissioner of the Tokyo police department has clout here and it just so happpens that they have an eye on your---" He audibly grumbled in derision. "--talents." His look of loathing soon turned into an ominous triumph.

"They've forced my hand and now I must take extreme measures. Whether you agree to my little unorthodox proposal is up to you--but the felon Eugène Ganimard will be hanged at dawn."

Sweat broke out on the prisoner's grimy forehead. To hell with decorum and he didn't care if the guard behind him rammed the butt of his rifle in his head.

"But sir, I'm servin' life---there must be some mistake..."

The warden genially puffed on his cigarette, revelling in the condemned man's torment.

"No mistake, Ganimard. You will hang at dawn. But--"

He gestured with his hands in what probably was to him largesse.

"I'm willing to free you---if you give up your name, you will be able to start over--from there, you will enter the police force, become an

offier, and live the life of an honest citizen."

Ganimard held his tongue. Where's the catch, where's the catch.

"But...if you don't keep your nose clean, you will be arrested again and since the commissioner knows your situation, he will not go easy on you. And if you make a poor showing as an officer, you will be fired and you will also be arrested."

"But I wouldn'tve done anythin' yet! What for?"

"We'll find a reason." The impartial machine of authority plowed on before the prisoner had scarcely gotten a word out--it was only right, since the prisoner had already forfeited his right to existing at all. "Within a week of your arrest, you'll be transferred to the nearest correctional facility, so I suggest you stay both straight and productive. Do I make myself clear?"

"..Yessir."

"So then..what is your name?"

Ganimard had noticed that the guard at the door was standing right behind him. The menacing clattering of chains was an all-too clear indication that the guard was ready and waiting for the signal. Here they only chained you if they were going to waste you.

What was it gonna be?

_Die with my thief's honor?_

Ganimard could almost hear his drone of his Japanese ancestor that had relished dragging guys like him to the sword. Since then, generations had rebelled against his invariable committment to the law...was he the one that would end the rebellion and submit once more to the yoke of honest society...?

The sword..the noose...

_Not much of a choice, huh?_

He looked on the brighter side. Maybe he was meant for the honest life.

Maybe he could go straight. Better than dying, anyway.

"Zenigata Koichi."

---

Looking back on that day, the inspector vaguely wondered if he he could've just played the hero, stayed a thief, and then by some daring, miraculous escape, live. Then he could have somehow raised Toshiko on the funding that he "earned" as Lupin's partner.And then he'd really be free, not have this sort of half-freedom, this glorified parole. Where Toshiko still was wondering why he wouldn't come home.

Fifteen years, huh?

It just got worse when his new friends put him on the Lupin case, shortly after he was promoted to Inspector. What a load of shit that was...Interpol demanded results without knowing what kind of---genius, really, that they were dealing with. Day in, day out he received his orders, which he received and carried out to the letter---except that each time that the perpetrator was Lupin, he came back empty-handed. It had become so ingrained in his nature to chase the man, he had come to expect it at any time of day, or night, when he was eating, or sleeping, Lupin was lurking, and at the slightest whiff of him, he was on his trail, running, running...

Much like tonight. He chased Lupin on foot in a deserted field in his characteristic growling rage. As he endlessly pursued the perpetrator, he spouted a whole carefully-crafted verbal stream of committments to justice, bold accusations, righteous judgement. It was so carefully crafted, that for years it had come off as natural, fooled the thieves into thinking that Zenigata was just a blind fanatic, a law-mongering straight-arrow, that no one would ever suspect of having had a crooked past, that no one could ever call him on. Reinventing himself on a daily basis, really. It wasn't until Lupin suddenly stopped running and turned around that Zenigata sensed something wrong.

Lupin started to snicker, and soon was doubled over laughing his guts out.

"What the hell's so damn funny?..!" Zenigata snarled doglike, half in grumpy irritation and half in nervousness.

"Can't believe it, Pops---all this time I thought you sold yourself to the pigs upstairs, but man! You should frigging hear yourself!" He snarkily mimicked one of Zenigata's stock threats, that turned him red with shame at its utter hollowness, at how incredibly fake it sounded.

_God, I'm not even tryin' to pretend anymore..what the hell's wrong with me?_

"I...I didn't say it like that! I meant it, every word!!"

Lupin with all at once alarming and comforting familiarity slapped the cop on his broad shoulder.

"Come off of it, Pops, you're still an honest-to-goodness thief and you know it!"

"Shut it, weasel, I'm an honest man!!" Zenigata yelled at the top of his lungs, as if to defend himself against the mass of acccusing voices, the loudest coming from himself.

"Come on, Pops..come clean for once in your life!!" Lupin coaxed with a devilish glow on his pasty face. Jigen appeared from nowhere and seconded his partner with a semi-coherent bark.

"Yeah, Pops. We're not a friggin' inquisitorial squad."

"Never! You can forget it!"

He upturned his chin, turned around, and crossed his arms in the way that he usually got when he didn't want to admit something, petulant and maybe even a little infantile. And yet something unexpectedly buckled in him and crumbled. The faucet started flowing and he screamed in Lupin's face, "Alright, ya wanna hear it?! Fine!!" He deflated, and sat down with odd calm on the lone stump in the field. "Yeah, I'm still a thief--on the inside at least. That's why I can't stand it..From my end at Interpol, you're a fugitive wanted in 87 countries, I'm doin' the world a whole lot of good by puttin' your weasly ass in the slammer for good." He sighed, a rough, snarling unpleasant sound. "Ha! But you and I know, you're the freest son of a bitch alive! You stroll out of the clink whenever ya want, then you happily wave your ass in Lady Justice's face." His momentary brightness collapsed into a shadow of gloom. "It's a life I can't go back to..I made a choice and went straight..." Now he just looked sad, lost, and though he was hunched over, his arms crossed, you could tell he was reaching for something but never quite grasping it.

"Every day, chasin' you...you're like friggin' Eve's apple."

Lupin grimaced. "That's a little creepy even for me, Pops."

"You know what I mean!" Zenigata snapped, straightening his hat with a grumble. "Day in and day out I tell myself freedom is a clean record, not being hunted and desperate like you're supposed to be--" He waved a resentful finger at him. "And then you come along and remind me what real freedom is and you just wake old Eugène up again. There, I said it!" He folded his arms again and turned his back to Lupin and Jigen. "So beat it before I change my mind about givin' you scumbags a head start!"

Lupin stroked his hairless chin, his cocked eyebrow the only thing attesting to his machinations.

"Well then, Pops..." He rubbed his hands eagerly, as if about to embark on a particularly dificult project. "We'll just have to work extra hard to wake him up permanently! Seeya!"

"Later, Pops."

And with that the monkey and dog-faced ex-mobster had vanished. Zenigata was left on his solitary stump.

_Huh..I'm still Eugène in spirit, but probably shoulda mentioned to the weasel that if one day he asked me to join 'im, I'd be more useless than Jigen without that ugly-ass fedora of his._

_Haven't plied my trade in a long time. Probably forgot everythin'._

Struck by some diabolical curiosity, the police inspector reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out his handcuffs. With one eye incredulous that he was even doing this and the other one flashing with wicked playfulness, he clamped the handcuffs onto his wrists and then reached a little awkwardly behind his collar. From behind he drew a piece of a metallic wire-like object, and with his left hand, set to work on the keyhole. With minimal effort that infuriated and delighted him the cuffs yielded. He sighed, smiled in resignation, and turned to trudge in the direction of the city.

"Once a thief..forever a thief---" he muttered while straigtening his brown hat. The moon once again hung filled and content on the dark earth. He looked up at it, half in defiance and half in the desperate yearning to embrace it. "But I'm also a cop. And no matter how long it takes I'm gonna put you away for good---that'll get me to stop wishin' for somethin' that doesn't even exist."

Thus Zenigata steeled himself for yet another battle in the ongoing war with Lupin... as well as the bloodier one against the thief in him that just wouldn't stay down. He couldn't get rid of bim. Like Lupin himself, he'd be there, yanking his eyelid at authority with a smile and a wink.


End file.
